What does it mean to be truly broken?
They used to call me Doll Face.
The pretty girl with perfect porcelain skin.
But that was a lifetime ago.
Before I learned how cruel this world really is.
Now I belong to them.
All of my secrets have been exposed.
They smile when I cry.
They laugh when I scream.
They won’t stop until I’m broken.
What do cruel men do with broken dolls?
Especially the ones that don’t deserve to be put back together again.